


Psuedo

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha!Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal, BDSM, Beta!Sherlock, Blood Play, Dubious Consent, Felching, Frotting, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild CBT, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Oral, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, semen play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was a psuedo bondmate for his platoon in the army when he isn't being their doctor, but he was less than happy with that arrangement. When he gets himself into a 'situation' he ends up at Baker Street waiting for his life to start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

It was only supposed to be temporary. A detour on the road of life until John’s ‘situation’ amended itself. That’s what they called it- John’s Situation- because John was still hadn’t fully accepted it and it wasn’t Sherlock’s problem. John’s birth control had failed while he was in Afghanistan. The thing about Army Omegas is it always failed eventually. Everyone was just waiting for it to happen, and in the mean time John was a good doctor when not on heat and a good fuck when estrus kicked in. He was everyone’s pseudo bondmate, but when he started reeking of pregnancy hormones he was _no ones_ mate and he was shipped home to England with an army pension and the promise of an increase when the ‘bundle of joy’ was born.

So John found himself in a ‘situation’ with another ‘situation’ brewing inside him. Typically an Omega who was in a family way was easy to find a mate for. They smelled like every Alphas wet dream, but John had had enough of Alphas during the war. The fact of the matter was, though it didn’t technically count as rape he hadn’t _wanted_ to be mounted during his heats. Not by any and every Alpha who came along, at least. Maybe if he’d had the option to pick one or two he trusted, but that wasn’t the way the army worked. They didn’t want an Omega to end up suicidal because ‘their Alpha’ had died, never mind that the suppressants prevented bonding so John couldn’t technically bond.  They also didn’t want the insane jealousy that would occur when the only two or three Omegas in the platoon- there were rarely more than that- got picky and the rest of the Alphas were left with Betas or their hands to take the edge off. So whoever was nearby when John went on heat got him, and John opted out of a paternity test since the Army frowned on that as well. If an Alpha asked, then John could get it done guilt free just to tell him yes or no, but otherwise he was to keep the results to himself or not get it done at all.

So John needed a flatshare until he got the Army’s promised post-baby pension increase, which was how his OBGYN, Stamford, ended up setting him up with Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock had given John a disgusted look, told him he wasn’t going to wait hand and food on a pregnant Omega, and then accepted him as a flatmate and started ordering him around as though the git was his Alpha. Except Sherlock Holmes was neither John’s Alpha nor an Alpha at all. Sherlock Holmes was a Beta with one hell of a case of Napoleon Syndrome*. The man needed a long string of temporary flatmates set up for him in advance because he always chased them away, so apparently 221B Baker Street was basically a very roomy bedsit with a very nice Landlady and a mad consulting detective living in it. Long and the short, it was perfect for John and he moved in immediately.

John met Mycroft after he went on his first case with Sherlock, in which the man lived up to his word and didn’t fuss over him at all. The pack Alpha and Detective Inspector on the scene, Lestrade, was more than a bit perturbed that a pregnant Omega was hanging around a crime scene, and the femAlpha Sally downstairs made a pass at him, but otherwise he was left to his own; quite literally when Sherlock abandoned him at the crime scene. The gits brother ended up picking him up and fussing over John. Apparently he was also an Omega but had chosen to donate his eggs rather than breed. He was horrified at his brother’s treatment of John, but John would rather that than the mothering of a barren Omega, so he demanded he be taken straight home rather than to Mycroft Holmes’ house for ‘decaf tea and a few other necessities’. Everyone seemed to be warning him away from Sherlock, but John was inexplicably drawn to him. In the madness that followed John felt like he had a purpose again and dove into being Sherlock’s blogger and assistant.

The shift in their relationship was subtle. John started off taking care of the flat simply because Sherlock didn’t. Then he began doing it Sherlock’s way, because it made him less stroppy. Then he started doing extra things like making a spare cup of tea so Sherlock could have it if he wanted. Then he stared nagging Sherlock to eat, sleep, stop being a dick, and a multitude of other things. Sherlock went along with it and John felt himself comforted by the role of Submissive to the oddly dominant Beta.

That wasn’t to say Sherlock didn’t have moments where he let on that he was a Switch. There was one particularly miserable day where John came out of his room to find Sherlock pacing the room and when John opened his mouth to ask what was wrong he was hustled into a chair and given a foot rub. John had moaned and melted into it, letting it happen while watching Sherlock battle his alter egos. He went from submissively rubbing his feet, to rubbing his feet in a dominant way. John hadn’t known there were two dynamically different ways to rub someone’s feet, but apparently there were. It was the attitude. When his Sub side was out Sherlock lowered his eyelids or even his head, bent to his task with a single-mindedness that spoke of _need to please_. When he switched back to Dom he raised his eyes to meet John’s and gave him a cocky grin that said ‘I’m doing this because I want to and for my own gratification, and you’ll be grateful for it’. John was. He thanked him profusely every few minutes until nearly an hour had passed and John was a boneless lump of happy on the chair. Then Sherlock had stood up, washed his hands as though washing it of the situation, and that was the last John saw of his Sub side for a good long while.

Then the unthinkable happened; the worse thing that could happen to an Omega aside from being barren. It was an accident, but not one at home or a crime scene. John was out for a walk. He’d just started showing and was drawing attention from every unmated Alpha in the area. He was avoiding them because he’d decided he was going to raise his child alone after he moved out of Baker Street. Once the baby was old enough to go to school John would get a job as a locum at a clinic just to keep busy and he would never bother with Alphas again. Even his heats he planned to spend alone. So he was distractedly watching the Alphas mill about when he tripped and fell down a few stone steps. He grabbed the handrail on his way down, which only twisted him and landed him hard on his rump. John hadn’t thought a thing of it, though several people of varying genders rushed over to see if he was all right. He’d gotten back up himself, hadn’t bumped his stomach at all, and was telling them he was fine when the cramping pain shot up his abdomen. John looked down to see a growing stain on his trouser leg and all thought of dignity vanished. He was instantly a panicked Omega, and the Alphas around him went into protection mode. The Betas called for help while Omegas put down jackets and eased him to his back. One of them took down his trousers and pants and gave him a look over, mentioning that she had six babies at home so she knew what she was doing. The sad look on her eyes after examining him confirmed what his doctor’s knowledge had already diagnosed. He’d lost the baby.

Sherlock was oddly solemn when he picked John up from the hospital. While he had walked all over John he’d never treated John like an Omega before, and it was odd to see him doing so now. Still, there was no help for it as he leaned on Sherlock’s shoulder for support. He had a psychosomatic limp now. His miscarriage had done what the war hadn’t managed to and damaged his mind. John was still getting used to the cane and was in a good deal of pain besides. Sherlock was supportive from a physical standpoint, but his near complete silence made it clear that he had no idea how to be verbally or emotionally helpful. Instead he let his Sub side out and took care of John until he was able to stand up and move about on his own. Then John sat Sherlock down to discuss their options.

“Look. I know I said I’d move out once… well, once my situation here was resolved, but now I can’t afford to. I can get a job as a locum to supplement my income and get a different flat that way, and I intend to either way, but I was wondering if you’d take me on full time?”

Sherlock made a face, “I’m not interested in having an Omega, John. I’ve no intention of ever forming a family unit.”

John nodded at that. Though they hadn’t discussed it, Sherlock’s behavior made it clear. He didn’t enjoy being a Beta and rarely let his Sub side out to play. He went on no dates and sought out no Alpha companions; the only way an Omega would be interested in him was vicariously through the Alpha. He hadn’t even tried to pair up John, which was normal behavior for a Beta who was friends with an Omega. Betas were sterile so they typically longed for an Omega, Alpha, and surrogate children to care for. They balanced the pair and formed a family unit with a bonded Alpha and Omega.

“Thing is, Sherlock, I’m not looking to bond with anyone, but we get along well enough and I think we’re good for each other. You can think about it if you like.”

Sherlock cocked his head to one side, but gave a terse nod, “No need. So long as you intend to remain single I see no difficulty. How will you handle your heats? I’d rather not get tangled up with all that messy _hormone_ stuff.”

John chuckled; he suspected Sherlock- like the majority of Betas- was largely asexual.

“I’ll be going to a safe house,” John replied, “I’ll have to pick one in the next couple of weeks when my re-up heat hits, so I’ll post the name on the fridge or something.”

“Yes fine, I’m sure that will do,” Sherlock replied, standing and hurrying off to find something more interesting to do than discuss his flatmates unwanted sex life.

So John became a permanent resident of 221B Baker Street, and while he had largely internalized the loss of his unborn cub- expressed in the psychosomatic limp- his friends all watched closely as though he were going to pop at any point in time. Despite their worry, he made it through his next heat without incident, having Sherlock escort him to the safe house since the heat came on suddenly as they usually do after a miscarriage. Sherlock wasn’t there to pick him up afterwards, but then Sherlock wasn’t ‘his Beta’ so John wasn’t surprised or hurt. Surely they made up an awkward pack of some kind, and John certainly looked to Lestrade as pack Alpha despite the fact the man had never subdued him, but he expected no coddling from Sherlock Holmes.

However, the coddling was apparently going to come from a different source whether he wanted it or not as the next time he showed up at a scene Lestrade drew him outside.

“John, I know we’ve never established anything, but I consider you one of my Omegas,” The pack Alpha told him softly, reaching out a hesitant hand and then grasping his shoulder when John instinctively leaned forward, “Good Sub.”

John held back the flinch that wanted out at the purred compliment. He knew Lestrade wasn’t trying to be Alphanizing- calling a Sub good was a standard response taught in school- but he didn’t want to be looked down on by the man.

“Sorry,” John stated, shrugging him off and stepping back despite his warring instincts, “I mean no disrespect, and I _do_ consider you my pack Alpha, it’s just that…”

Lestrade cocked his head and John relaxed a bit when he saw Lestrade wasn’t going to instantly try to subdue or Dom him. Lestrade smiled in encouragement and John stepped closer again to breathe in the heady, comforting scent that accompanied Lestrade’s presence.

“You’re independent. I get that,” Lestrade nodded, speaking for him, “Sherlock warned me away from having this conversation with you, but I can’t let it sit. John, you need more than him. He doesn’t take care of you at all and- hear me out now- you _deserve_ to be taken care of. At the very least, will you come to me for your heats? Sherlock mentioned you were miserable when you came back the other day.”

John sighed, fighting down the urge to ‘tug at the leash’, so to speak, when Lestrade started treating him like the Omega he’d always been.

“Why now? Why not when I was… before.”

“You seemed to have it all together, then,” Lestrade shrugged, “And you came to me when you needed a shoulder to bitch on, what with living with Sherlock and all. Lately you haven’t done that.”

“I just got out of the hospital three weeks ago and went on heat last week. I haven’t had time to call you and go out for drinks!” John snapped, and a few people looked over.

Sherlock was done with the scene and was narrowing his eyes and heading over.

“I’m not asking for that,” Lestrade replied, “And I don’t expect you to check in with me. You can take care of yourself: I get that and I respect it.”

John calmed a bit, but Sherlock had already seen him upset.

“John doesn’t want an Alpha,” Sherlock stated firmly, “He’s made that quite clear.”

John gaped at Sherlock, and then glanced over to find Lestrade in a similar state. Betas didn’t _disrupt_ courtship, they encouraged it! Set it up, even! Hell, Sherlock staying out of it because he was an autistic narcissistic wanker made more sense then him stepping up to bat for John’s _feelings._

“I’m not courting him,” Lestrade replied, nodding to Sherlock’s Dom side respectfully, “I’m just offering him myself as his pack Alpha. So he can come to me if he needs me. My pack’s big. I have unattached Alphas who can serve John during his heats or I can take care of him. I can even breed him.”

“No,” John and Sherlock both spat out with equal vehemence.

“No Alphas during my heat,” John elaborated, “I’m fine with you being my pack Alpha; hell, I don’t think I have a choice, it’s pretty much already happened. I’m not breeding, though. I’ll… I’ll donate my eggs or something. Sherlock knows someone who did that. I’m sure they could give me the info.”

Lestrade looked surprisingly unbothered by this and simply nodded his head, but then a concerned look crossed his face.

“John, did something happen? In Afghanistan?” Lestrade asked gently.

John looked away a moment, sighed, and nodded firmly. Lestrade growled and Sherlock turned instantly to Sub in the face of the angry Alpha scent pervading the area, backing away to give Lestrade space if he wanted to make a run at John. John’s own instincts kicked in and he was on his knees before he knew it. Lestrade paced back and forth, fighting his reaction down. Push him too far and he’d go into a Dom Frenzy. John didn’t want to deal with that, and the best bet was to either talk him down or offer himself up for a subdual marking. Sherlock was already bending his neck back, eyes slightly glazed as he presented himself for acceptance. Beta’s weren’t usually heavily effected by their hormones, but there were always exceptions and a pack Alpha being pissed off was definitely an exception.

“Greg,” John pleaded softly, but then amended it to appeal to him more, “ _Sir_. It wasn’t completely non-consensual.”

“Oh, not completely! That makes it all better!” Lestrade snapped.

“It’s how the army _works_. Omegas can’t get attached to one Dom, so we’re handed off to any Alpha around during our heats.”

Sherlock’s head swiveled towards John, his eyes wide with revulsion. John looked away in shame.

“I’m not a slut. I didn’t like it. I had no choice,” John ground out.

_Bad choice of words in a time like this._ Lestrade’s eyes were glazing and in a minute he’d hit a full out Frenzy. John stood and bared his neck, tugging his jumper down to show off his throat as much as possible. _If it were long and lean and pretty like Sherlock’s I wouldn’t have to try so hard_.

“Sir, please,” John pleaded, making his voice submissive and breathy, “Make their marks go away.”

There weren’t any marks, not really. Not proper bonding marks, but there were scars from where they’d bitten, scratched, and cut him. There was no way Lestrade could cover those up permanently, but he grabbed John tightly against himself- one arm around his waist and the other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck- and dragged him against himself. Lestrade’s lips latched onto John’s throat, moaning as he sucked in a subdual mark to welcome John into the pack properly. His hips rutted against John, spontaneous erection prominent as he instinctively tried to scent John through his clothing. Then he turned his head and gently, so sweetly it was painful, kissed John’s parted lips. His tongue dipped in, mapping his mouth as though finding his way back to sanity by using John’s tongue as a compass. John heard Sherlock groan as though in agony and was suddenly ripped from Lestrade’s comforting embrace.

“ **Kneel _,”_** Lestrade ordered, and John crumpled to the ground.

Then he squared off with Sherlock. Sherlock, who was behaving like an _Alpha_. He was hard in his trousers, eyes flashing angrily, trying to put himself in between John and Lestrade.

“I should have subdued you _years_ ago, Sherlock,” Lestrade sighed, backing up to lure him forward now that Lestrade was the one with a clear head, “For that I’m sorry. I’d rather this wasn’t done in front of the force.”

He might have said more, but Sherlock flew at him. Sherlock had the advantage of better honed fighting skills and a (normally) more controlled mental state due to being a Beta. However, it wasn’t sheer strength or prowess that made a pack Alpha rise in the ranks. It was something deeper and more profound, something that had to do with brain chemicals and personality. Sherlock was pulling his punches without even realizing it, his instincts screaming at him to submit to Lestrade, who was all but toying with him. Then the Alpha took things up a notch and Sherlock was pinned to the ground, legs spread, wriggling and moaning obscenely as Lestrade sucked a mark into his neck. When Sherlock still wasn’t entirely coherent Lestrade switched sides and sucked a mark there as well. Sherlock went limp and unresisting beneath him, only his erection making a token show of rigidity.

John was panting. He was dripping wet, achingly hard, and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life outside of a heat. Except… he could feel a flush coming up his body, a fog clouding his mind. Sherlock had wriggled himself around and was pressing his backside to Lestrade’s crotch, whimpering submissively and grinding back on him. That wasn’t right, either, because subduals weren’t supposed to be sexual- despite the frequency of spontaneous erections- and Betas weren’t supposed to behave like Omegas any more than they were supposed to behave like Alphas.

“What the hell is with you?” Lestrade asked, clearly confused despite his growing arousal. Then he sniffed the air and his eyes honed in on John, the pupils dilating instantly. 

“Sherlock,” John gasped, hands dropping to the ground as he arched his back and presented the soaked back of his trousers to the world, “Sherlock, please! Gods, no! I’m going on heat!”

 

 

*Instead of being short, I’ve decided Napoleon was a Beta.  
  
[CHAPTER TWO](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/38235.html)


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock reacted immediately, scrambling out from beneath Lestrade and bolting for John’s side. He tugged him upright and dragged him towards the main road, with Lestrade trailing after snarling at any Alphas who tried to approach John.

“Piss off, Lestrade!” Sherlock snarled at him, “He doesn’t want you!”

“He needs protection! He’ll be raped!”

“The cabs are all driven by Betas.”

“Yeah? Well my cars driven by me and I’m his pack Alpha. I’m yours, too.”

“He doesn’t want to be bred!” Sherlock argued, though he turned and tugged John towards Lestrade’s car anyway.

“I won’t force him,” Lestrade replied, “As pack Alpha I’ve got more control when Heats kick in. He’s all yours, Sherlock.”

“If you touch him, I swear…”

Lestrade paused with the car door halfway open and grabbed Sherlock by the hair, “Look at me, Sherlock. Listen to what I’m saying. I’m not going to take John away from you. Ever.”

John looked up in alarm, his mind clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, and he saw a look of such vulnerability and fear in Sherlock’s eyes that his breath caught.

“You swear it?” Sherlock demanded.

“Yeah. I swear,” Lestrade replied, then kissed him ferociously and pushed his head down to shove them both into the back seat.

John ended up sprawled on his side on the seat and Sherlock climbed in on top of him. He tugged John onto his back, climbed between his legs, and kissed him hungrily. John wrapped both legs around Sherlock’s waist, keening in need and grinding himself against Sherlock’s body.

“Please! Sherlock! It hurts!”

“I’m here, John. I’ve got you,” Sherlock panted, kissing and sucking along John’s neck.

This was what Betas existed for. They protected Omegas from being raped during heat, got them to their proper mate if there was one, and kept them sated as much as possible along the way. Sherlock would keep the edge off of John’s burning body until they could satisfy him with something larger. John was more hindrance than help in getting his pants off, but Sherlock managed it in the end and thrust inside of John in one go. John groaned in disappointment at the six inch Beta cock that couldn’t quite fill him; that ended any theories he had that Sherlock was secretly an Alpha. Unless he was just a small Alpha? Perhaps a birth defect?

“Knot me!” John demanded, grinding himself down on Sherlock frantically, trying to get him to show his true colors.

Sherlock groaned in agony, “I can’t, John. I’m sorry. Oh, gods, your so wet!”

“Your fingers!” Lestrade shouted from the front seat, “Aim for his prostate with your dick and push your fingers in around your dick. Make him feel more stretched.”

Sherlock groaned in agony and adjusted position. John was swearing angrily at the very unfulfilling sex. An Alpha didn’t have to aim to stimulate John’s sweet spot; they were so thick it just happened on its own. When the knot swelled he would ride out orgasm after orgasm, sometimes without his cock even being touched. Sherlock, however, had to go hunting for John’s P-spot and John was getting more and more frustrated. Until he hit it; then John arched and keened in pleasure as Sherlock took up a punishing pace, fucking him fast and hard while he worked three fingers in alongside his cock.

“Almost there,” Lestrade told them comfortingly, “John, where are your toys kept?”

“N-nightstand,” John gasped, “Sherlock, gods, I want you to fuck me with them! Hard!”

“Yes,” Sherlock groaned, and John felt him coming inside of him with an anxious cry.

Sherlock’s concern was misplaced. Between his own mental visual of Sherlock buggering him with a gigantic dildo and the feel of hot come coating his insides, John came in a long spurts across his torso. He gasped and cried out his flatmate’s name while Sherlock slipped out his cock before it went completely flaccid and used three fingers to massage John’s prostate over and again. John cried out and came again, his jumper sticky with his release.

“We’re here,” Lestrade stated, jerking the door open and tugging Sherlock off of John.

Sherlock snarled and fought him but Lestrade all but tossed him towards the door to 221B. He reached in for John, but he wasn’t having it and crawled into the front seat and out that door. John pounced on Sherlock, who had the door partway open, and they tumbled into the front hall. Lestrade was in hot persuit, and he grabbed Sherlock beneath his arms and dragged the two of them inside before slamming and bolting the door in the face of two angry Alphas.

“ **Upstairs! Now!”**

Lestrade’s Dom voice got through the two hungrily snogging men and they scrambled up the stairs, choosing to kiss against the door instead. Lestrade opened it and they tumbled inside where he quickly bolted that one as well before checking the perimeter for any other easy entrances. Like most houses, bars could be lowered across the bedroom windows to keep unwanted Alphas from breaking in, so he coaxed the two men into Sherlock’s bedroom and bolted everything down tightly.

“No toys in here and you two aren’t going to make it up another flight of stairs,” Lestrade panted, his erection tenting his trousers, “Hell, I’m not going to.”

“Mine!” Sherlock snarled, pinning John to the floor and covering him with his body, “John is mine!”

John was whimpering in pain, his mind barely holding on to the last vestiges of consciousness. He wanted to pass out and drift through the pleasures of Heat haze, but he needed to be _satisfied_ to get there and he needed to be knotted to be properly satisfied.

“I won’t take him, Sherlock, he’s yours, but I have to mount him. He’s in pain. Look at him, Sherlock, look at how much he’s hurting.”

“He ran from you! He doesn’t want you!”

“John,” Lestrade coaxed gently, “John will you let me fill you up? I know it hurts, sweetheart, let me take the pain away. Sherlock won’t go anywhere and it will only be the two of us. No one else. No strangers. No one you don’t trust. Just your pack Alpha and your Beta. I won’t even claim you.”

John whimpered in indecision, squirming in pain while Sherlock tried in vain to satisfy him with his fingers. He was in agony, but he didn’t _want_ Lestrade. He wanted Sherlock. No matter how much that didn’t make sense, because he was a Beta and couldn’t give him what he needed, he still wanted him.

“I-I need an Alpha,” John admitted in misery, “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock went to pull away, his face hurt from the rejection, but John cried out in pain and tugged his hand back.

“Fist him,” Lestrade growled, “I’ll take him once his mind goes, but we have to get him there, first. You know how to?”

“No, direct me,” Sherlock replied.

“He’s very open during heat. Work in a forth finger and thrust until you can push in a bit further. Tuck your thumb, yeah, just like that, fuck that’s hot.”

John couldn’t agree more. Sherlock’s hand was slowly working its way inside his body and John’s greedy hole was trying to suck him in farther and faster. John was a moaning, sobbing, pleading, growling, grunting mess. He gripped his cock and jerked it for a moment, but his limbs were growing heavy as his body tried to convince him to sleep through his heat so he’d have energy later when the Alpha was exhausted and unable to protect him. Sherlock’s other hand was busy spreading his cheeks wide so Lestrade reached out and stroked John’s cock, whispering soothing words to him and telling him he was gorgeous.

“Is that better, sweetheart?” Lestrade purred.

“Y-yes. P-please. M-more!”

Sherlock’s entire hand was inside of him and Lestrade directed him to slowly curl his fingers. Once done Sherlock gave his fist a slight pump and John came hard as his body _finally_ felt full enough. Sherlock groaned at the sight, but Betas weren’t made for sex the way Alphas and Omegas were. His cock gave an interested twitch but nothing more. Meanwhile John was sinking down into the fog of Heat and the last thing he saw was Lestrade lowering his trousers. The thick, long Alpha cock- a good ten inches and very thick- bobbed in front of the DI, dripping pre-come and promising John a fulfilling Heat unlike the one he’d had alone in the safe house. John whimpered and knew no more until he woke up when his heat ended.

John came awake suddenly, as he always did after a Heat. What was unusual about this time was that one of the bodies in bed with him was a Beta. What made it even more unusual is that the Alpha above him was one his instincts were _welcoming_ inside of him. John was on his back, as he probably spent most of his Heat since he was unconscious for most of it. Lestrade’s sweat-soaked, come stained, tan body flexed above him, his hips rolling like a belly dancer, his knot fully seated in John and swelling to fullest capacity. The man was gorgeous with his silver hair plastered to his head with sweat and his eyes glazed with lust. His lips were swollen, wet, and slightly parted as he panted and groaned above him. John moaned and lifted his legs higher, grasping his thighs and thrilling as the tip of Lestrade’s gigantic cock pounded against his swollen cervix.

“Greg,” John whispered, watching the man’s eyes widen in surprise.

“John!” Lestrade gasped, “Oh, fuck, Sherlock! Uhn, I don’t want you to stop but… John’s awake.”

John blinked in confusion, not understanding what that meant until Sherlock’s tousled head appeared around Lestrade’s shoulders.

“John,” Sherlock gave John a heated look, “You’re breathtaking like this. I could devour you. I still might.”

“Gods!” John gasped, “Are you? Is he?”

“Am I fingering Lestrade while he fucks you? Yes.”

“Oh fuck!” John cried out, his mind picturing those long pale fingers buried inside Lestrade’s dusky pucker.

Sherlock must have given him a particularly good nudge because Lestrade bucked into John hard, swore, and came with a strangled cry. John followed him instantly, his bollocks clenching as he rolled through a dry orgasm, his bodily fluids being needed for the creation of lubricant rather than sperm-less seminal fluid. They both went limp, gasping for breath, but John soon began to squirm, still in need of another orgasm.

“Sherlock, you wanna try that again now he’s awake?”

“Gods, yes!” Sherlock groaned.

“Wrap your legs around me, John, we’re rolling over,” Lestrade instructed.

They rolled together, but when John went to push himself up into a sitting position, Sherlock’s cool hands pushed him gently forward again.

“Hold still, John,” Sherlock’s deep voice rumbled, “This may be a bit uncomfortable at first, but we did it once already so we know it works.”

“Did what?” John asked nervously, but the answer came when Sherlock began to ease a finger into John’s stretched hole, “Sherlock? You can’t possibly fit!”

“Oh, but I can, and when I do you will _die_ from pleasure,” Sherlock growled.

John held completely still, breathing shallowly and all but shaking from the anticipation as Sherlock gently worked his finger back and forth. After a moment he worked in a second. Both John and Lestrade groaned in pleasure, though John felt a bit of burn. Still, being a masochist that meant the burn only excited him more. Sherlock pumped his fingers in and out of John, for a moment, and then groaned loudly.

“Gods, John, your natural lubricant and Gregory’s semen are leaking out around my fingers. It’s positively _erotic_.”

“I wish I could see,” John moaned.

The snap of Sherlock’s camera phone followed that sentiment.

“You bastard!” John snapped, squirming a bit, “Don’t take pictures of my… oh.”

John stared at the phone held in front of him. He could feel those fingers working in and out of him, but the image on the screen made it so much more _real_. Sherlock was inside of him. Lestrade- _Greg_ \- was inside of him. He was utterly full of two men who clearly cared for him. John whimpered and lowered his head to Greg’s shoulder as two of Sherlock’s fingers slid free. The remaining one held John open while Sherlock pressed his cock inside with a drawn out hiss.

John whimpered at the initial strain, but then Sherlock’s head popped through the first ring of muscle and he let out a shuddering breath. Sherlock paused a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths, then slowly pushed the rest of the way inside of John. They all stilled, though Greg’s movements were limited by his knot anyway. John swore he could feel both their pulses through their tightly pressed members. John’s body ached, and there was a curious pressure, but in a delicious way.

“T-take another picture,” John whispered. He heard the snap and both John and Greg admired it.

“Blimey,” Greg whispered, then gripped John by his hair and kissed him deeply. For several seconds the world narrowed down to teeth, tongues, and lips; then Sherlock slid out and slowly glided back inside.

Both John and Lestrade gasped and then moaned in pleasure. John felt Lestrade’s knot, which had been diminishing a bit, begin to swell again. Sherlock pulled out once more and plunged back in sharply. John gasped and a shot of pleasure ran up his body and all the way back down to his toes.

“Fuck!” John shouted.

“Sher! John! Fuck!” Lestrade agreed.

“This is beautiful,” Sherlock panted, his hips pumping in and out of John’s body fast and hard, “You’ve no idea. I can feel _everything_ ,” Sherlock groaned, “So wet. So _tight_. Greg’s knot is rubbing against the bottom of my glans. You have no idea how... yes!”

John gasped. Sherlock’s cock sliding in and out meant Greg lay still beneath him, but it didn’t mean the man wasn’t an active participant. Every thrust of Sherlock’s lean cock rubbed Greg’s knot into John’s prostate. John was hovering on the edge of something beautiful, one hand tangled in silver hair and the other gripping his shoulder. Greg stroked John’s back, hips, arse, and then drew his hand back and brought it down on John’s bottom sharply.

John howled and came in torrents while Gregory spanked him soundly all through the climax. Each strike vibrated pain up his spine while Sherlock wrung pleasure from his womb. John felt like he would never stop spasming in pleasure, and was sobbing and begging for it to stop by the time he went limp across Greg’s body.

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” Sherlock growled into John’s ear as he leaned forward.

“No! More! Harder!” John shouted and Greg gripped his hair, turned his head and bit his neck soundly.

John gasped in pleasure, but the bite didn’t break the skin the way he wanted it to. Greg wasn’t trying to bond with him. Blows continued to rain down on his bottom, but were added to with the sharp, unexpected sting of Sherlock’s riding crop.

“Oh, fuck, yes! Again! Make me _bleed!_ ”

Sherlock groaned and took up a brutal pace, beating John until the pain turned to numbness turned to pleasure turned to…

_Fog. Drifting. His head was heavy but the air around him was so thick that he still floated up and up. Each strike of crop and hand echoed through his body like ripples in a pond. Shooting pleasure and jarring pain warring together to make his vision swim, his cock throb, his bollocks draw up, and his breath come in fast sharp bursts. Sharp stings that burned long after the crop left let him know that the skin had been broken. The soft cool of blood on his back was intoxicating. He felt warmth flood him, the pulse of the second cock in his body; the man he loved finding pleasure inside of him. He was complete, purring in joy at having submitted completely to these two powerful men. He vaguely felt the pop of the head of the smaller member sliding out of him, a gush of warm fluids, a tongue chasing the rivulets of come and vaginal fluids down his thighs, the caress of a soothing warm tongue around his raw, stretched entrance, hot breath against his taint sending shivers up his spine. The one beneath him was moving again, thrusting up into his loosened hole as though his knot weren’t already huge and throbbing. Then his muscles clenched and the knot was trapped inside again as the crop came down again, now on the soft underside of his thighs. Fresh sparks of pain on this un-warmed area and he was sent flying higher and higher. He was screaming. Coming. Begging. Pleading. Babbling. Falling. Down. Down into someplace soft and warm where heat pulsed inside his body in long rivulets until his stomach swelled in mockery of the pregnancy his body was trying to achieve. Lips. Soft on his cheek and neck. A tongue teasing his ear. Two tongues running over him, one on his neck and the other on his back and back down the cleft of his arse to swirl around his entrance once more. Soft. Warm. Still. Cold water dripping down his chin. Mouth open. Moisture exploding on his tongue, soothing his raw throat and filling his parched body with shivering comfort. Hands. Gentle. Cloth. Wrapped tight. Between love and safety. Safe. Warm. Calm._

When John woke again it was with a burst of Submissive energy. He struggled free of the two sleeping men on either side of him- they wouldn’t wake for anything- and staggered to the bathroom on shaky legs. He normally spent ages pissing after a heat, but he barely managed a few seconds. _That’s odd._ He’d have to tell them they hadn’t kept him properly hydrated. _No. Wait. That doesn’t fit._ _If I weren’t properly hydrated I wouldn’t have made enough lube. I’d be chaffed to hell. Possibly torn. I’m barely even sore at all and they doubled up on me! Twice!_

John washed up, pondering the odd sensation, then hurried into the living room to don an apron and cook food for his Alphas. He ate as he went along, stuffing whatever looked good into his mouth as he boiled pasta for a nice spaghetti dinner. It was instinct for an Omega to wait on the Alpha once s/he woke, but Greg and Sherlock would sleep for a while. Still, John was in full subfrenzy and once he had two plates keeping warm in the oven he began washing the dishes, scrubbing the counters, sweeping the floor…

Greg groaned from the bedroom and John jumped in surprise. How were they awake already? John dropped what he was doing, grabbed the food, tucked a bottle of water under each arm, and practically ran to the bedroom.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Greg growled, “You wearing pants?”

“Ah, no,” John chuckled, “Just the apron.”

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Greg groaned, shifting his sore legs.

John sat down on the bed and forked a bite of spaghetti into his mouth. Greg groaned again, but this time in pleasure as he happily ate his first meal in days. Sherlock shifted and John grabbed the other fork with his right hand to feed them both, but he shook his head and turned away.

“Sherlock, you haven’t eaten in three days,” John nagged, “Come on. At least half the plate.”

“It’s the same day, John. It’s not even midnight.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“No it’s not,” Greg snorted, “You waking up so early just means this was a Mock Heat.”

“Mock Heat?” John asked, “So I wasn’t fertile?”

The moment the words left his mouth John flushed in horror.

“I… I have to go,” John choked, pushed their plates towards them and bolted.

John doubled over in the bathroom and wretched into the toilet, dropping to his knees and sobbing brokenly once his stomach was finally empty. Greg followed him in, albeit slowly since his legs were overworked from hours of almost non-stop sex. He dropped to the ground behind John and pulled him into his arms, gently wiping his mouth with a damp flannel.

“It’s okay, John. It’s alright.”

“It’s not okay,” John sobbed, “The hell am I acting like this? I didn’t want a kid the first time around. Why am I suddenly upset I’m not going to be... to be…”

“Pregnant again.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s instinct, John. You’ve got an Alpha with you who cares this time, it’s normal to want to be bred. It’s normal to have mixed feelings; both about your miscarriage and about being pregnant again.”

“What would we even do? Sherlock doesn’t want to share me. Not full time. I know him. He’ll want all my attention on him.”

“He’ll damn well make room for a baby or I’ll have something to say about it!” Lestrade scoffed, “And besides, sometimes Mock Heats can be fertile, even if it’s rare. If not, there’s always next time if you don’t go back on birth control. Any idea who caused you to go on heat? Was it my subdual mark?”

John shrugged and remained silent, contemplating his options while he listened to Lestrade’s heartbeat. He thought the subdual marking was a likely cause of the mock heat, but part of him was whispering that Sherlock was his Perfect Match… but that wasn’t possible, was it?

“Let me bathe you?” John requested.

“Yeah, sure.”

John ran the bath and helped Lestrade lower himself in. He soaped up a flannel and scrubbed him down tenderly. Once he had him rinsed, dried, and comfortable he helped him back to bed and bullied Sherlock into the shower. He insisted on washing himself so John gave him a lingering kiss and left him to it. Lestrade was snoring on a fresh set of sheets that Sherlock must have put down when John got back. He tucked him in, cleaned up the plates (Sherlock _had_ eaten a bit) and headed into the living room to collapse into his chair and try and figure out his future.

[CHAPTER THREE](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/38467.html)   



	3. vincentmeoblinn | Psuedo Ch 3

John’s breath was slow and steady as each clip was carefully attached across his torso. There would be a flare of pain and then nothing. This had gone on for well over an hour and John had lost count of the amount of clothespins somewhere around 112. On each nipple was a harsh alligator clip, which tingled and sent sparks flying up his body as he breathed. John was bound spread eagle on Sherlock’s bed, with his hands stretched out as well. The rope was expensive Japanese silk, but that didn’t stop it from chaffing him when he pulled on them, which he did more for the fun of it than a need to escape. Of course, a longing to get up and run from this was building in him, but it had more to do with anticipation than fear or pain. Beneath each clip was a string, the dangling end of which was at John’s ankles. The long line of clips went up the inside of his thighs, ending with two attached to each side of his testicles. The next lines went up the outside of his torso, clipped into the hair at his armpits, up the bottom of his biceps, twisted to the underside of his arms, up to the soft flesh of his wrist, and ended on the frenulum between thumb and first finger. The next two lines were shorter and went from the soft flesh on either side of his neck up to his earlobes.

Once his masterpiece was complete Sherlock smirked and gave each of his nipples a flick, drawing gasps from John who began to harden as he watched Sherlock lighting a candle.

“Soy based,” Sherlock explained, “The smell should be quite lovely.”

Then he dripped some of the rose scented substance on his chest and John arched and whimpered. A few clips came undone and Sherlock fixed them with a frown, securing them tightly while John panted with need. The coating of wax went down, down, down, where Sherlock stroked his cock to life and then began to drip it over the sensitive flesh of his cock and bollocks, carefully avoiding the clips attached to his scrotum. John panted, whimpered, groaned, and made all number of obscene sounds. He loved every flare of sharp, hot agony, and when it dimmed to a solid feeling coating on his body it only added to the sense that all was right in the world. The weight of the wax he layered on his body pressed down on his cock, dripping onto his stomach until his member was attached to his abdomen by a red, waxen pillar. 

Then Sherlock stepped back and gave his work a once over before ripping the cords off John’s neck in one long double streak. John grunted, and then grinned in challenge. Sherlock smirked and ripped off the ones on first his right arm and then his left. John gasped, his cock twitching enough to loosen the wax and send it bobbing about, shedding bits of wax everywhere. Sherlock gripped both cords at John’s ankles and John unconsciously braced himself. Sherlock grinned and simply waited. And waited. And _waited._

John whimpered, his cock throbbing painfully at the sadistic grin on Sherlock’s face. The anticipation was torture; the longing for more was unbearable. Finally John forced himself to relax. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths until every muscle in his body was lax and his mind had drifted quietly into a peaceful place.

The pain was immediate and excruciating. John screamed, not once but twice despite the fact that Sherlock had ripped both off in unison. His bollocks drew up the second they were freed and he humped the air, desperate for a release that was _hovering_ just out of his reach. He was vaguely aware that he was babbling Sherlock’s name, begging for satisfaction. He felt his ankles released and his legs drawn up. The plug was removed from his dripping arse and Sherlock sank inside with a grateful moan. He began to thrust slowly inside John’s clenching body, pulling off bits of wax as he went. The wax caught in the hairs on John’s chest, adding pinpricks of excitement to the mix as a few hairs were pulled out by the roots.

Sherlock had become an expert at finding John’s prostate over the last few weeks, dedicating enormous amounts of time to learning how to pleasure the Omega who now keened and writhed beneath him. John was a puppet on strings when Sherlock touched him, dancing to his whim and begging for more. John wriggled as Sherlock removed the clips from his nipples, bent his head low, and began flicking his tongue over the abused nubs.

“P-please! Sherlock! My cock! Please!”

Sherlock groaned and then fisted John’s cock almost savagely, squeezing it until it was bordering on painful before stroking him firmly from root to tip. John was close, his body arching, hips wrapped around Sherlock’s waist. When he came, it was with an eager grunt, his body clenching around Sherlock’s shaft and drawing his own orgasm from him. John opened his eyes in time to see Sherlock’s face as he came, clenched in a rictus of pleasure before going lax with a gratifying gasp. Sherlock panted a moment while John trembled in need, and then Sherlock scrambled up onto John’s torso, tugged a plug from his own body, and sank down on John’s aching cock with a satisfied sigh.

Sherlock reached up and tugged the release ropes on John’s arms and he grasped Sherlock tightly and rolled with him. Once he had the consulting detective pinned beneath him where he wanted him, he pounded into his body savagely, chasing his release with single-minded greed.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock breathed beneath him, his hands running up John’s sensitive sides and then back down to cup his buttocks and encourage his thrusts, “Mmmm, take me.”

“Sherlock!” John gasped, then groaned out his second climax.

John went limp across Sherlock’s body, sighing in pleasure as the Beta gently petted his body and ran his fingers through his hair. Outside of heat John didn’t necessarily need a knot to climax provided his lover was skilled, but that didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ it, and Sherlock was only able to come once before needing to rest an hour or more. He’d yet to climax more than three times in a day. John may have been just barely satisfied where simple orgasms were concerned, and he was more than satisfied where his masochistic tendencies were concerned, but his muscles still worked and grasped at nothing but air. He felt empty in more ways than one despite having the man he loved wrapped tightly in his arms.

Something was missing and John knew it was only a matter of time before it became more than a lingering doubt.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Lestrade hadn’t seen John or Sherlock in several weeks. His caseload had been simple and he’d wanted to give the new couple space, but he knew he would have to make the first move if John didn’t step up soon. For one, it was entirely possible that John had conceived during their brief Mock Heat together. For another, he had an aching feeling that the two men wouldn’t be happy without an Alpha. Sherlock was a more than competent Beta and had shown a surprising willingness to be flexible where pleasuring John came in, but there were times when an Omega needed the scent of an Alpha around them. While it was possible for the two men to be content with only seeing Lestrade or another of his Alphas during Heat, the detective rather suspected that wouldn’t be the case.

So when John showed up unexpectedly at the Met, wringing his fingers and smelling of Omega in distress, Lestrade snarled all the nosey Alphas trying to hone in on him away and ushered him quickly into his office.

“Pregnant?” Lestrade asked first, doubting it because the scent wasn’t right.

“I-I haven’t tested. Do I smell it?” John’s voice was both hopeful and afraid and Lestrade took a moment to slow down in case he needed comfort.

“Afraid not, John,” Lestrade replied gently, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a supportive smile.

“Okay,” John said, eyes sliding away as he took a deep breath and tried to look relieved, “Well that’s one thing out of the way.”

“So what _is_ on your mind, eh? You look tense.”

“Sherlock is… Sherlock’s…” John sighed and slouched in the chair, abandoning his usually rigorous military stance that he employed even when sitting.

“A Beta,” Lestrade said softly.

“There’s nothing wrong with Betas!” John shouted, standing up to pace the small room. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Lestrade.

“Nope, and as Betas go he’s a great man.”

“But?” John asked, throwing Lestrade an anxious look.

“He can’t meet your needs,” Lestrade said sadly, showing John that he wasn’t thrilled about it either, “John, I hope you understand I’m not trying to get in your pants, here. This isn’t about me getting with you, this is about you and Sherlock being happy together. You may need a third person to do that; in fact, I’m sure you will. The question is, who?”

“Who?” John asked, giving Lestrade a slightly panicked look.

“John,” Lestrade stood from his spot leaning on the desk and crossed to him quickly. He stepped into his personal space to press his scent close, “John, I’d give anything to be with you. I’m not saying I’m not interested, just that I want you to know you have choices. My pack’s big. I can find you an Alpha that jives with both of you.”

They both made a face when those words left his mouth, realizing the flaw in the plan. _No one_ jived with Sherlock.

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s Sherlock keeping you away?”

“No! Gods, no! John, I was giving you _space_. I’m sorry if I misread the situation. I’m here for you. _Both_ of you. In whatever way you need me.”

“I don’t know what I need,” John admitted, his expression pained, then leaned forward and pressed himself against Lestrade’s body.

The detective inspector held John tightly, stroking his hair and thinking positive thoughts to keep his scent reassuring. John sank into him, relaxing tense muscles and beginning to smell less distressed. Eventually his scent evened out and then began to lean towards aroused. He shivered in Lestrade’s arms, but the man didn’t want things to head in that direction. Not without Sherlock’s permission.

“Where is he?” Lestrade asked, knowing John would know who he meant.

“Case in Omsk.”

_He left you behind?_

“I see,” Lestrade said, letting his displeasure shine through.

“I asked to stay behind. I felt… trapped.”

“So you did need space, but not from me?”

“I don’t know. I think I needed it from you first, but now I need it from him.”

“What’s going to fix this, John? What do you _want_? What do you _need_? You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

John sighed, breathing in his scent again before stepping back, “I don’t want someone living with Sherlock and I. It’s perfect, our relationship. We fight and make love and have fun together. I don’t want to change that.”

“But?”

“But I want an Alpha at my beck and call,” John winced at his words. It wasn’t a _normal_ urge, certainly, but Lestrade was old enough that he no longer dealt in ‘normal’ the way most did. He’d seen too often that normal sometimes meant restrictive.

“Okay. Who?”

“Who?” John asked, as though the question had been posed in another language.

“Who do you want? You’re an attractive man, John, and very respected here at New Scotland Yard. Most of my pack _is_ the Yard, you know- and most of the Yard is my pack.”

“Shit,” John replied, eyes wide, “I had no idea you were so…”

John blushed and didn’t finish the sentence. The larger a pack the more powerful the Alpha, though power where pack Alphas were defined could be… indefinable. Some were clearly Alphas based on raw Dominance, others on physical strength, still others on that rare quality called charisma. Lestrade knew he was none of those three things in large quantities, but he was someone likable and easy to talk to and had more than a few good traits. When he’d first joined up he’d quickly raised ranks to DI because he’d wooed a large number of higher-ranking men and women into his pack. It became a prerogative to get him into a position that others wouldn’t be ashamed to bow to. His first five years had been almost like boot camp as the higher echelons recognized him as someone they needed trained and trained fast. By the time his pack had stabilized and absorbed several other packs and their Alphas, Lestrade had as much experience on the force as people who had been there for fifteen years or more despite still being wet behind the ears.

Unfortunately, while the size of his pack was a source of pride for Lestrade, it was also somewhat of a burden. He could see John realizing that he’d just asked a man with literally _hundreds_ of pack members to let him monopolize his time with little to nothing in return; especially since John had already shot down bonding and childbearing, the two things an Alpha existed for besides chasing Omega tail and beating the crap out of each other.

“John, I have time for you. I’ll _make_ time for you.”

“That’s not fair to the rest of your pack,” John sighed.

“What’s not fair is that your last Heat was the first I’ve shared in _years_ , John,” Lestrade replied bitterly, “You’re not the only one with needs, and I’ve got more Alphas than Omegas. I’ve been leaning heavily on my Betas for sexual gratification, which is why I knew how to involve Sherlock so easily, but that’s only so good for so long. Alphas need Omegas too, you know. It’s not a one-way street. I could intrude on other couples, flex my pack Alpha muscles and demand the right to top their Omegas during a Heat, but I can guarantee you my pack would shrink fast that way and I love them all too much to put that kind of pressure on them.”

“So we need each other,” John replied quietly.

“I’ve got no problem with it, John- with you being autonomous. I’m not going to demand you kneel at my feet all day. I’d love it if you did,” Lestrade smirked flirtatiously, “But I’d not demand it without your consent and Sherlock’s.”

John relaxed visibly when Lestrade mentioned Sherlock’s consent mattering to him. Ah, so that was the crux of the problem! John wanted to keep Sherlock happy as well as himself. He wasn’t being the least bit selfish, but Sherlock being the type of bastard he was probably hadn’t noticed that John was lacking in the fulfillment department. Now that they’d gotten to the crux of things, however, John was leaning back into him and the silence was reaching awkward. Both wanted what they weren’t able to have without Sherlock’s approval.

“I could… I could text him. That’s a pretty shite thing to text someone, isn’t it?”

“Mind if I have sex with our pack Alpha while you’re away? Nah, Sherlock would probably be more comfortable handling that by text than in person or over the phone.”

John snorted, “Should I?”

“I’d say ‘can’t hurt’, but we both know I’d be lying. This is delicate, if only because Sherlock’s a wanker.”

“He is that, but I love him,” John sighed, pulling back.

“Want me to try? I could work it a bit differently. Text him and say I want to see you, play it from there.”

“He’d see right through it.”

“Oh, yeah, that he would.”

They stood there, all but scuffing their feet like nervous teens, and then John cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something that would likely be a form of goodbye.

“Don’t go?” Lestrade said quietly, “I wasn’t joking when I said it’s lonely at the top, John. Just stay? You don’t have to do or say anything, just having you near would be… worth it.”

John nodded, smiling softly, and sat himself down in a chair. Lestrade got back to work and John fiddled about on his phone. He appeared to be reading an e-book for a while, but eventually he started texting someone- likely Sherlock. He snorted now and then or rolled his eyes, and then he grew serious. Eventually he started shifting a bit uncomfortably and Lestrade distinctly smelled arousal.

_Sexting? Seriously? Right in front of me? That’s just cruel!_

“When do you get off?” John spat out suddenly.

“I can clock out now,” Lestrade replied, giving John a smirk that let him know that opening was just _too_ easy, “Most everyone’s gone home by now.”

John silently passed his phone to Lestrade who saw a series of messages between John and Sherlock. At first they were about the case and Lestrade chuckled at Sherlock’s snarky comments, but then they turned to their relationship.

**I’ve been thinking about you since I got here. I think I’d like to try the toys again. Something with an inflatable knot. – SH**

**They’re only going to do so much, Sherlock. We should try scents. Some Alpha oil might do wonders. – JW**

**I’ve got some at home for times I’ve needed to go undercover. I’m not sure I like the idea of changing myself when I’m with you, though. – SH**

**I love you, Sherlock, Beta or not. No matter what happens. – JW**

**Sentiment. – SH**

**You know I feel the same. – SH**

**Something doesn’t feel right about this conversation. – SH**

**Why aren’t you responding? – SH**

**Where are you? – SH**

**John? Answer or I’m calling Mrs. Hudson. – SH**

**I’m at Lestrade’s office. We were just talking and I ignored your texts for a bit. I was thinking. Sorry. – JW**

**You’ve had sex with him, haven’t you? That’s why you sounded off earlier. You were planning on it and apologizing in advance. - SH**

**I won’t lie. I was thinking of it, but I couldn’t go through with it. I can’t do that to you. I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do without an Alpha. You might be able to ignore your biology, but I just can’t. Do you want to end this? – JW**

**No. – SH**

**Do you? – SH**

**No. I really do love you. Lestrade’s offered to be with me as well, no commitment, just whenever I need him. He wants your consent, though. I’m not sure what to say. Would you be able to share me like that? – JW**

**Are you mad? – JW**

**I’m sorry. Forget I mentioned it. I’ll go home now. I’m just sitting here keeping him company anyway. – JW**

**Please, Sherlock, I wasn’t thinking straight. Forget I said it. Delete the messages and delete it from your mind palace. We can go back to the way we were. – JW**

What followed was a picture of their time together just as John’s Heat had ended. Lestrade swallowed. He had forgotten Sherlock had taken photos of that unbelievable moment when they’d both been inside John together. The feel of Sherlock’s cock sliding against him, stimulating his knot until Lestrade wanted to scream at the pleasure… no wonder John had become aroused.

**I want this. – SH**

“Gods,” Lestrade breathed, “That’s…”

“I know,” John nodded.

Another message came through and Lestrade passed it to John to let him answer it in order to respect his privacy. John’s face flushed red and he passed it back without a word.

**I consent so long as you tape it and send it to me. This hotel room is dull and I could use something to wank to. I’ll be home in the morning. Have Lestrade stay over. – SH**

“Fuck,” Lestrade whispered, his cock swelling at the idea, “Your phone have enough memory to tape…?”

“No, yours?”

“It will once I erase everything off it,” Lestrade grunted, snatching it up and hitting a few buttons to do a mass delete, “There. Now get over here.”

Lestrade set the phone on his upside-down nameplate as a stand and hit record. When he looked up John was halfway undressed and kneeling on the floor like the beautiful Sub he was.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” Lestrade breathed, undoing his trousers, “I’m going to knot you for _hours_ , John.”

“Please,” John shivered.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock’s phone pinged and he picked it up. An hour long video? Well. That ought to keep him entertained for a while. If, of course, entertainment were what he were looking for. What Sherlock really wanted to see was how they interacted. Throughout the course of the day the realization had struck him, perhaps based on some Beta instincts long repressed, that John’s happiness was far more important to him than his own. Now he was left with the dubious task of deciding what would make his uncertain blogger happy. The three of them? Just Lestrade? Just himself? Or one or two completely different people? Whatever the outcome, Sherlock was suddenly determined to find John the perfect bondmate(s). He wondered if Lestrade realized the video Sherlock was currently hitting play to watch was more of an interview than a porno.

[CHAPTER FOUR](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/38769.html)   



	4. vincentmeoblinn | Psuedo Ch 4

Sherlock forced himself to watch the video once through while fully clothed with his hands on the armrests of his chair; he focused on their faces- whenever in view- and the sounds they made to ascertain level of interest, pain, pleasure, and fulfillment.

Then he started it over, yanked out his cock and forced himself to hold off climaxing until Lestrade came for the final time in the clip.

It was a fairly awful video, frankly. He could barely see what they were doing most of the time, but John’s shoulders and occasionally his face were in the frame and Lestrade’s hands and handcuffs as well. That being said, Sherlock had never been more aroused by a video in his life and he was aching to get home, strip off John’s clothes, and kiss every bruise, welt, and cut on his body.

He had also never been more _exposed_ by a video. Here Sherlock could see clearly what John was missing with him and it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with how good in bed Sherlock was. It was simple biology, just as Lestrade had stated several times. No gigantic strap-on dick with an inflatable knot smeared with Alpha pheromones was going to be able to take the place of a real Alpha for John. That hurt. It truly did. But it also felt supremely _good_ , because it meant he wasn’t doing anything wrong other than standing in the way of _this_. This… gods, the sight of it!

Even after climaxing Sherlock rewound and replayed sections of the video. He was especially overwhelmed by the sight of Lestrade cuffing John’s hands to the desk drawer and locking it. The way he calmly informed John that if he damaged the drawer by tugging on the cuffs he was going to pay for it in blood; it wasn’t a threat it was _flirting_. The drawer was, of course, quite damaged by the time they were through.

Then there was the sight of Lestrade taking a second pair of cuffs and beating John with it. He’d jumped the first time he’d seen it, but his eyes had been on John’s face and the shocked excitement reflected in his eyes. It wasn’t just the threat of harm- too hard a hit really could break a rib or damage an organ- it was the fact an Alpha was doing this. The knowledge that the man above him was just as interested in seeing him healthy as he was in seeing him bleed. At one point Lestrade had turned John gently so that his back was visible to the camera and Sherlock had nearly come at the sight of the bruising crescent moons covering his back. Some had broken the skin and were bleeding. Lestrade leaned down to lick the beads of blood up, moaning John’s name and biting the wounds until the Omega was trembling with desire.

“ _Look at him, Sherlock. Look at your Omega. Gods, he’s beautiful. Remind me to thank you for letting me have this with him when you get back. I think sucking you off while John sits on your face might do the trick. Would you like that, Sherlock? John? You want Sherlock to eat your pretty wet hole while I swallow his dick_?”

“ _Yes!”_

_“Tell Sherlock you want it,_ ” Lestrade growled, the cuffs coming down sharply on his back and making his entire body bounce on the desk.

“ _Sherlock! Gods! I want you t-to eat my arse while Greg s-sucks you off!”_

_“Don’t tell him. Ask him like a good little Sub!”_

_“P-please! Sherlock! Ahhh!”_ As the cuffs came down again and Lestrade simultaneously thrust into John’s body, known only by the arch of John’s back and the sound of Lestrade grunting in pleasure as he began to rock into John’s body, _“Sh-sherl-lock p-p-please! Ahh! Oh gods! Deeper! Your knot! I need it! Please!!”_

_“I thought you were asking Sherlock for a favor?”_ Lestrade snarled, then pulled out, gripped his knot, and came across John’s back.

Sherlock gaped at the long ropes of come painting John’s tan, marked body. He knew Alphas could come an obscene amount, but this was overwhelming! John’s body was dripping semen; he looked like he’d had a container of clotted cream dumped on him. Lestrade furthered the visual by rubbing it into his back with both hands, then smearing it into his hair and styling it with a wicked chuckle.

_“So pretty, John. You look like a rock star now… or a rock stars latest slut.”_

John was sobbing, literally weeping, at the loss of fluids and the knot that could have been inside him.

_“Please Sherlock! Please let me sit on your face while Greg sucks you off! PLEASE!!”_

_“That’s better,”_ Lestrade growled, and thrust into him hard enough to jolt his body on the desk.

_“YEESSSS!!”_ John was screaming now, his voice making the phone’s mic cut out as he jerked on his cuffs to get leverage to thrust back against Lestrade.

He knew when the Alpha knotted John because both their bodies stilled with mutual gasps. It was so filthy, so _obscene_ , this half-video of his lover being pleasured by another man. Sherlock was so close. So on edge. So _frantic_ for John and Lestrade to both climax. He knew John must have come once already, but he’d been so enthralled by the pain/pleasure that his orgasm hadn’t been important at the time. Now that Lestrade had him knotted, however, John’s entire focus would be on the next mind-blowing climax. Lestrade had taken to rolling his hips to gyrate his knot inside of John over and again, the video now filled with John’s virtually still body and the sound of Lestrade’s grunts as he worked the thick band of swollen flesh against John’s prostate. John was whimpering, keening, sobbing out the word ‘please’ over and again. You could feel the anticipation like static in the air. Sherlock half expected to reach up and find his hair standing on end.

Then it happened. Lestrade let out a sound that was halfway between a shout and a growl and pressed against John’s backside hard enough to lift his lower half off the desk. Sherlock got a full view of John’s previously pinned cock in Lestrade’s hand and then John was coming and coming his body wracked with pleasure. He was screaming and sobbing as though nothing could hurt as much as this orgasm did. When Sherlock listened to the video the first time he’d been shocked to hear John shout Sherlock’s name as well as Lestrade’s, but now it made sense. They were making love to him as well as each other, Sherlock just didn’t happen to be in the room.

XXXXXXXXXXX

John and Greg were curled up in Sherlock’s bed when he arrived, each of them hugging his pillow as though deeply missing his presence. Sherlock strode into the room and tore the blankets off of them, bringing them blearily into consciousness with a sharp word.

“Strip!” Sherlock barked, and John started pulling his sleep clothes off before he’d even really acknowledged who was speaking.

“Sherlock?” John blinked, “I thought you were due in at 10? I had an alarm set.”

“I caught an earlier flight. I couldn’t sleep. Gods, you looked so… you were… roll over!”

John flipped onto his stomach, automatically going to all fours where Sherlock ran an appraising hand across the dark bruises and gashes across the Omega’s body. John shivered under his touch, but neither he nor Greg could figure out what Sherlock was thinking or feeling behind that blank mask.

“Now, Sherlock,” Greg started gently, “I know the bruising looks bad, but I would never actually _harm_ J-“

“Shut up,” Sherlock stated, still running his hands over John’s torso.

Until Greg tackled him to the floor.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Sherlock,” Greg snarled, pinning the whimpering Beta with his arms behind his back and his face scraping roughly across the floor, “You may be the most Dominant Beta I’ve ever met, and you may be John’s Dom, but you’re not _my_ Dom. You don’t give me orders. I’m your pack Alpha, and a damn good Dom, and don’t you forget it!”

Sherlock whimpered, got his legs beneath him, arched his back, and pressed his arse into Greg’s clothed crotch.

“Just… just take me already!” Sherlock gasped, turning his face away in shame, “Hurt me! Take me! Fuck me! Please!”

“Oh, gods,” John moaned, feeling himself harden as Sherlock’s rarely seen Submissive side came out to play.

“Sherlock,” Greg whispered gently, “Sherlock, there’s no shame in Submitting. Look at me, here, roll over, open your eyes, look at me, darling. There’s no shame in Submitting. Would you think less of John? It takes a strong man to Submit. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

Sherlock’s eyes looked suspiciously moist, but he blinked back tears and nodded. Greg began to undress him slowly, spending obscene amounts of time on each button and even more on each article. When Sherlock was finally naked beneath him he was trembling with want.

“You’re gorgeous. Look at you, Sherlock. Just look at you. Thank you, Sher,” Greg whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“For what?” Sherlock asked, completely at a loss.

“For giving me this gift: you Submitting to me. I’m humbled,” Greg’s voice was a soothing purr, his hands stroking up and down Sherlock’s sides.

Sherlock gasped and arched into the touch, not used to being on the receiving end of someone’s attention. He whimpered and basked as he looked up and saw both John and Greg’s eyes focused solely on him. He was spread out for them; his legs splayed wide while Greg gently caressed him over and again.

“I believe we had an agreement, yeah?”

“How am I to Submit to you while you suck me off?” Sherlock asked, not wanting to come out of the headspace he was slowly drifting into.

“You think I can’t Dominantly suck your cock?” Greg grinned, “John! Get that sweet smelling arse down here and give Sherlock a face full!”

“Yes, Sir!” John replied, eagerly sliding off the bed and onto Sherlock’s face.

“Turn around. Lemme see that cock,” Greg ordered, and John turned so his hard cock waved at Greg while he settled down on Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock gripped John’s hips and greedily started licking his hole.

“Not yet,” Greg snapped, giving Sherlock’s hip a sharp slap, “John sit up a bit, just let him look at you.”

John leaned forward and Sherlock groaned in frustration as Greg lightly stroked Sherlock’s cock to full hardness.

“I can taste your semen in him,” Sherlock groaned blissfully.

“I’m going to taste yours soon,” Greg growled, “Tell me, Sherlock. Limits?”

“L-limits?”

“Do you like pain?”

“N-not particularly, no.”

“Fine then, we’ll reserve that for punishments. Orgasm denial?”

“Yes, please, Sir!”

“Plugs?”

“Mmmm,” Sherlock groaned lifting his hips eagerly.

“Being sodomized?”

“By you?”

“By John or me.”

“Y-yes? I’ve… I’ve never been by an Alpha. John has it’s… Mmmm, it’s so good.”

“Some Betas can’t take an Alpha cock. If you can’t or don’t care to we never have to,” Greg gave Sherlock’s cock a reassuring squeeze and then tugged John downwards. He lined both John and Sherlock’s cocks up and stroked them together while John whimpered and thrust into Greg’s hand, his hole gaping with desire and dripping onto Sherlock’s stomach. “What about restraints?”

“Y-yes. Just. Dominate. Me,” Sherlock grunted.

“Mmmm, I could do so much to you, Sherlock. John. Back up and stick that pretty cock of yours down Sherlock’s throat.”

John whimpered and did as told, sliding down Sherlock’s open mouth with ease. Greg pushed John’s head down onto Sherlock’s shaft, which was about an inch longer than John’s little Omega prick, if just as wide in girth. They moaned for a moment, sucking each other lovingly while Greg moved to the side and controlled both their movements.

“Up, John,” Greg growled, “Sherlock, there will be times you’re Dominant with John while I’m present. Today’s not going to happen that way. You’ve rarely ever Submitted at all, let alone to me. You need this. Do you own that?”

“Y-yes,” Sherlock whimpered as John’s cock popped out of his mouth with an obscene sound. John was manipulated until he once more sat down on Sherlock’s face. Greg watched his movements carefully until he was right at the angle Greg wanted him at.

“John’s going to come off your tongue and his hand alone. You’re going to come down my throat and he’ll probably jizz all over my hair,” Greg smirked when Sherlock moaned at the thought and John gasped as though scandalized, “Then you two are going to cram yourselves into that shitty little shower with me and wash my hair like good little bitches.”

John sighed, content at this solution to an otherwise Dominant act and began wriggling his bottom for the friction he was being denied.

“Eager? Good. Start eating your breakfast, Sherlock, make sure you eat up all my spunk like a good little come-slut,” Greg ordered, and Sherlock started pressing his tongue in greedily, “You like that, Sher? He taste good? Do I taste good inside him?”

“Mm-hmmm!” Sherlock groaned enthusiastically.

“Good, lick him all up, Sherlock, keep him moaning, that’s it,” Greg growled, and then dropped his mouth onto Sherlock’s cock without any warning.

Sherlock moaned and began to fuck John with his tongue while bucking up into the mouth pleasuring him. Greg instantly pinned his hips, fingers digging in to warn him from his Dominant behavior. Sherlock whimpered and his hips stilled. He focused on pleasuring John, licking around his hole and flicking his cleft until the man was whimpering in pleasure.

“Jerk yourself, John,” Greg ordered as he popped off Sherlock’s cock, “But don’t come until he does, and I’ll be making sure that takes a _long time_.”

Sherlock and John both whimpered and Greg reached down to tug his bollocks down as he swallowed the Beta back down. John’s hand took up a slow and stilted motion. Sherlock moaned and writhed, but he was held firmly in place on the cold floor while Greg pleasured him with a _very_ talented tongue. The man teased down his shaft with his tongue, then up it with just the tiniest scrape of teeth. He swirled around his head and dipped into his slit. He flicked the frenulum and teased his foreskin up and down the head until Sherlock was a panting mess. Then he tugged his bollocks down and kept on going. A spit-slicked finger gently worked its way into Sherlock’s arse and he spread his legs eagerly to accept it as the first link in a soon to be brilliant chain of events. Greg was soon massaging Sherlock’s prostate, slurping hungrily over his cock, and gripping the base of said cock to keep it from exploding.

John was wriggling in bliss, his nerves on fire as Sherlock devoured him from below. He couldn’t believe how wet he was despite it not being his Heat. His body throbbed and ached as his orgasm approached, but he deftly held it off with years of practice. Doms often wanted to control when he came, but for the first time in his life John wasn’t bitter about it. Instead, he was excited to show Greg how good he could be, and watching the Alpha bob up and down on Sherlock’s pretty pink cock certainly made holding off a challenge! Especially when Greg peered up at him, his eyes smirking as he groaned around Sherlock’s hard shaft. John gasped and whimpered; lowering his eyes demurely to watch the loveliest bit of cock worshipping he’d ever seen.

The cold floor, the draft coming in through the crack in the door above him, was a distraction that kept Sherlock from going completely mad. The chaff of the rug beneath his shoulders where the shirt he was lying on had shifted down was another focal point. Then there was John. Sherlock was whimpering piteously, trying to focus on pleasuring John while he was held on the precipice of absolute blinding pleasure. He reached up a hand from John’s gently rolling hips and pressed a finger into one of his bruises. John hissed and arched and then swore and gripped his cock tightly to stop from coming. It didn’t halt a surge of fluids into Sherlock’s mouth and he groaned as he guzzled the musky, almost bitter tasting, Omega’s lube. He couldn’t taste Greg anymore at all, but that only made him miss the Alpha’s salty accent inside of John’s twitching body.

The scene before him mesmerized Greg. John was a vision as he panted and arched on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock’s Greek-sculpture-perfect body lay passively beneath them both as the arrogant consulting detective surrendered to Greg completely. Only his soft whimpers and greedy slurping attested to him being conscious- that and the pulsing erection down Greg’s throat. The Beta was slightly curved, and Greg found he liked that about him. It gave him a nice bit of play area to work with, and he enjoyed sucking each bollocks into his mouth and then running his tongue back up the rock hard shaft. John’s head was thrown back in bliss, his moans steady and low. Sherlock had just started keening in distress when Greg decided it was time to give him what he wanted.

“Soon,” Greg whispered as he gave Sherlock’s cock a rather firm stroke with his tongue. Then he swallowed the Beta down, pressed his bollocks gently up instead of pulling them down, swallowed around his cock and gave three quick bobs of his head.

Sherlock came with a smothered scream, the vibrations setting John off as he simultaneously thrust his tongue into the Omega’s arse and pressed down on a bruise with three fingers. John’s cock emptied, hot rain spattering onto Sherlock’s stomach, as the Omega moaned and grinded his arse down on Sherlock’s face. For a moment Sherlock couldn’t breathe- and the ludicrous idea that he’d be smothered by his lover crossed his mind- but then John was lifting up and Greg was ordering him to turn around and Sherlock and John’s lips met hungrily.

“That’s it. Kiss each other. You taste that, John? That’s what you taste like to us, sweetheart.”

John whimpered and tried to explore every inch of Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock was basking in a submissive daze; his mouth open and receptive while his body lay boneless beneath John.

“Greg?” John asked, his voice uncertain.

“No, not me, darling. Not this time. Up, you two. Don’t keep me waiting, now.”

John and Sherlock staggered after Greg as he entered the bathroom and John started the shower while Sherlock got reacquainted with Greg’s lips. The Alpha’s cock was full between them, but he wasn’t pressing for relief. The three squeezed into the shower, one on each side of Greg, and practically fought over who got to wash which part of him. Greg moaned enthusiastically all through it, and by the dazed look in his eyes Sherlock suspected he was in topspace.

A few firm strokes to his cock with Sherlock’s long fingers and John squeezing his knot and the Alpha cried out and spilled himself across Sherlock’s stomach and chest, his large cock pumping out buckets of come which Sherlock smeared across himself in parody of the video he’d watched. Greg’s glazed eyes glanced down at him.

“Well, fuck,” Greg grunted, then sighed and leaned one shoulder against the wall, “All in favor of going back to bed say ‘aye’.”

“Aye!” John replied enthusiastically.

“Nay,” Sherlock frowned.

“Good, then you won’t mind making breakfast,” Greg teased as the Beta’s back arched in protest, “Relax, Sherlock, I don’t expect you to be a Sub for me all the time. Come to bed with us, though. There’s more to making love than fucking. Let us hold you.”

“Sentiment,” Sherlock groused, but followed them back to the bedroom and curled up with them nonetheless.

“Then this is settled? I’ll come by for John’s heats and whenever either of you want me to?” Greg asked, his tone starting to drift towards dreamy. He had one hand in John’s hair as he pressed the Omega’s face gently to his chest.

“Yeah,” John sighed, “Sounds nice.”

“Mmmm,” Sherlock agreed, nuzzling into John’s shoulder.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The camera swiveled away from the scene before Mycroft. He smiled in relief and waved Anthea closer.

“Have some presents sent to my brother’s lovers,” Mycroft stated with a smile, “I’d like to thank them for being so… accommodating with my arrogant twat of a sibling.”

“They seem happy,” Anthea nodded in the direction of the monitor that only showed their feet.

“Yes, I’m quite relieved. It was almost worth being forced to watch my brother in sexual congress,” Mycroft made a disgusted face.

“I’d have done so for you, Sir. It would have been no hardship,” Anthea smirked.

“Watching three men go at it for ages? I imagine not,” Mycroft snorted, “Where is Eric, by the way. All this lovey dovey nonsense is making me miss my own dear Beta.”

“Eric is in a meeting, but I can have him brought here,” Anthea smiled warmly at the happy lovers just off the screen.

“That won’t be necessary. No use interrupting him until our Alpha is back from his trip to Egypt.”

“His majesty should be returning a few days before your heat cycle. What should I send Lestrade and Watson as presents?”

“Oh, how about those hormones I slipped into John’s tea to start up a Mock Heat?” Mycroft smirked, “That should be good fun for them. Might even get a niece or nephew out of it.”

“I thought Watson didn’t want to breed?” Anthea commented neutrally.

“All in good time, my dear, all in good time,” Mycroft smirked, rotating the camera back up so they could watch a sleeping John Watson stroke his belly subconsciously.


End file.
